


First Mornings

by Kannika



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23867608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kannika/pseuds/Kannika
Summary: It's new, to wake up next to someone else.They could get used to it.
Relationships: Kon-El | Conner Kent/M'gann M'orzz
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	First Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> I can't decide which I like writing more for Supermartian, fluff or angst. Right now, have some fluff!

When M’gann wakes, it takes her a second to place where she is. She’s staring at a familiar ceiling, she’s under familiar covers, but her room has a different feeling to it. More comfortable and less at the same time. More… lived-in? When she buys new clothes or opens a new package it has a different smell, starker texture on her fingers. Her room isn’t a new room, anymore. It’s hers now. 

She smiles, closes her eyes, and focuses on the warmth next to her. 

Right now, it’s not her room. It’s ‘theirs’. And that word is as exciting as it is terrifying, as new as it is natural. It’s a label, and she doesn’t like those, but this one fits. And it brings with it a sense of belonging she hadn’t realized she ached for until she has it.

She props herself up on one elbow that creaks with protest to turn and look at Conner. He sleeps on his back— a remnant, she thinks, of all the time he spent in a pod. He’s completely still, only his chest rising and falling, his lips slightly parted. He looks almost like he just laid down to sleep five minutes ago instead of last night, except for his hair. His hair, M’gann notices, is sticking up in back, and when he sits up there’s going to be flat spot where he laid on it all night. 

Conner gets bedhead. Her smile grows. It’s a silly thing, tiny, but finding out each little thing about him is exciting. They’re hers, these pieces of knowledge, and she cherishes them. 

She thinks about brushing his bangs out of his eyes, kissing him awake like in the movies, but holds herself back. This is a first, for them, and she doesn’t want to cross boundaries. He had seemed alright with it last night, when she tugged him into her room instead of his with only stammered explanations, but when he wakes up…

She had thought she was being quiet, but his eyebrows scrunch, and he turns his head slightly toward her, and, very slowly, his eyes start to open. M’gann braces but tries not to look too worried. She wanted him here and he wanted to be here, at least last night. She’s clinging to that. 

His eyes in the morning are a much brighter, clearer blue than she had ever noticed— or maybe that’s the proximity. He stares at her, blinking, processing, and she smiles at him and finds it’s much easier now. The pressure is subsiding so that she can breathe. 

“Good morning,” she says brightly. 

Conner blinks again and says, “Morning.” His voice is hoarse and rough and sends shivers down her spine. That’s _new._

M’gann swallows. She had told herself it was just sleeping, she just wanted to see how it felt, and that’s all it was at the time. But now, it’s become something else. She’s seeing Conner when he’s unguarded, lying a hands-width away from her, and it feels entirely different from what it should be in theory. In theory, it’s no different from falling asleep together on the couch. In reality, it feels like she’s let him crawl into a space inside of her, a new, more intimate togetherness than she had originally planned on. 

She doesn’t want him out, though. She just wants to know if he’s aware of it, and if he wants that togetherness or if she crossed a line she wasn’t supposed to. Her books on dating didn’t say anything about this. 

He’s been quiet for too long. M’gann clears her throat so she can try to sound somewhat composed. “Conner?”

He blinks again. This time it has the look of someone focusing back on the present. He looks slightly caught, and slightly flushed, and won’t meet her eyes…

Oh. M’gann smiles and feels her cheeks warm up, too. He was staring, too. She feels flattered and important and warm all the way down to her toes. 

She leans forward to kiss his cheek, and when she pulls back Conner’s blushing even deeper but he’s slightly smiling, too, now. It’s a good look for him. She wants to get him to look at her like that as much as humanly possible. 

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi.”

After a moment more, she breaks down in giggles. Conner sighs but it sounds good-natured. Not angry, not embarrassed, not annoyed. Just content.

She’s doing this again.

\---------------------------

When Conner wakes, he knows instantly that something is different— not wrong, but borderline, because he’s so used to being alone and he’s definitely not alone. When he first becomes conscious, his senses function before the rest of him. He feels a gentle heartbeat through the mattress, hears soft breathing, smells a very light flower perfume from when they went to the mall yesterday…

M’gann. It’s become less and less unusual, but he’s still adjusting to sleeping in her room instead of his. It’s so much bigger than he’s used to, and in his pod he was always alone. Waking up to something besides silence and stillness is so different. Not bad different, but… not good different, either. He wakes up in a little bit of a panic each morning. And then in confusion, really. Because _M’gann_ is the one who wants him here. 

He opens his eyes to look at her, sleeping right next to him because she gravitates toward him. She’s just so beautiful. It’s in her gentle smile even when she’s asleep, the way she holds his hand, the wispy halos of hair that fall over her face and move with her breath. There’s an innate light within her that she isn’t shy about letting everyone see, a gentleness that makes him feel content and complete and worthy, a spark that brings the energy in the room up like a lighter igniting. Even asleep, she’s beautiful, emanates a soothing energy that he loves. It feels like home. 

But there’s space between them. He’s separate from her, by not touching her, and he doesn’t want that but it’s what he gravitates toward. It’s what he’s used to— and it’s also safer. People can reject distance, but not the same way they can reject closeness. It hurts less. It still hurts, but it’s much less direct and he can tell himself it’s something else. 

It’s a risk, putting himself out there, but suddenly, in the quiet morning with only M’gann, who he trusts implicitly with everything, he wants to take it.

Hesitantly, he shifts his body toward hers instead of staring at the ceiling like he naturally does. It feels like he’s shaking the whole bed doing it, and he freezes, but M’gann just sighs and adjusts without turning. She’s still facing him, somehow. He never thought he would have someone who would orient to him the way a flower follows the sun. He still can’t believe it at times like this. 

He’s trying to hold his breath, but she still breathes out a little harder and mumbles something he can’t make out even with his hearing.

“What?”

“Morning,” she repeats in a yawn. Her breath is hot against his neck and he has to suppress the urge to shiver. It’s so _intimate._

“Morning,” he says quietly.

M’gann blinks, clearing her vision, processing what’s different, and then her eyes crinkle with the smile he knows is hiding under the blankets. “You turned,” she says, sounding shy, like she knows it was something he chose to do. 

“Yeah. Just…” He shrugs; it goes forward into her arms, touching more of her skin, and he freezes. He both wants to touch her and doesn’t want to intrude. Everything he wants is a contradiction of what he should want. He can’t silence the little voice in his head that keeps pointing that out, over and over again. “Trying something new.”

M’gann laughs a little and, quickly, like it’s an impulse decision, buries her nose in the crook of his neck. “I like it,” she murmurs. “But… you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I… want to?” That doesn’t make any sense even to his ears. He doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t know how to say that he feels like he’s not doing anything right, even after all these months being with her, without sounding needy or pathetic. “I don’t know.”

“Conner,” she laughs again, but it doesn’t feel mean, but affectionate. He likes it. “I just mean… I know this is new for you. Don’t do anything you don’t want to and don’t rush it.”

It sounds so easy and obvious when she says it like that. Conner huffs, aware his face is heating up, so much it kind of makes his head spin, and M’gann reaches out to stroke his cheekbone. He half-expects her to move her hand back, sensing the heat as sensitively as she does, but she doesn’t. Just moves her thumb in a steady, regular motion, and it’s soothing. Calming. He can feel his eyes trying to close, so after a moment he lets them. 

“We’re figuring this out,” M’gann says. “Be patient with yourself. I’m not going anywhere.”

He scoffs before he can stop himself, then freezes. That’s not what people are supposed to do when someone says something kind like that. Why is he so _bad at this?_ “I didn’t mean that-“

“I mean it,” she says, a little sterner but not angry. “Be patient with yourself. We’re both learning. And I _will_ be there.”

Conner swallows. She’ll feel that, they’re so close, but all she does in response is squeeze his hand under the covers. How the hell did he get so lucky, to find her, and find her so fast at that?

“The others think you’re agreeable,” he says, an attempt at a joke that she could take very, very wrong. It feels like a risk, but right now, after that, he feels brave. 

He can feel her smile against his skin. “The others are correct,” she says, her voice light in a way that means she’s mocking herself. “I am a damn angel.”

It’s the first time he’s heard her swear. Something about it strikes him as hilarious, and he laughs, louder now. When his chest moves she burrows into it, like they could merge into one person. He’s grown used to people moving away from him so it feels novel, important, so damn nice. 

This might be what true happiness feels like. He could live off the feeling alone.


End file.
